


Things That (Go) Bump in the Night

by StridickVantasshole (NSEW)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dave that's not how it works, Dorks in Love, First Time, Frottage, Ironically Bad Rapping, M/M, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:39:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9493913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NSEW/pseuds/StridickVantasshole
Summary: Sometimes you've just gotta communicate, y'know? Maybe listen to your crotch-appendage instead of your overly-nervous head, for once;it might get you head.





	

_Shift._  
_Shift, shift. Rustle._

==>Be the disgruntled, sleepy troll.

Ughhhhhh.

You are now KARKAT VANTAS, and you are now, annoyingly, not asleep. You groan as you try to sink back into that comforting haze, but no. Sleep had never come easily to you, and when it did, it was fleeting.

The shifting still hadn't stopped, and it wouldn't be a problem if you were in your own pile, because you could easily get rid of whatever had decided to crawl in amongst the pillows and sheets. However, and you feel a rush of pride at the thought, this _wasn't_ your pile, this was Dave's bed, where you and he had fallen asleep after an exhaustive marathon of the entire "In Which An Oliveblooded Halfling and His Eight Companions From Around Various Positions of the Hemospectrum Embark on a Perilous Quest Across Middle Alternia in Order To Destroy an Illicit and Evil Gold Fron-Decoration. Contains Uncountable Instances of culling, Haphazard Usage of Weaponry, and One Forbidden Cross-spectrum Romance, and so is Suitable for Trolls Six (6) Sweeps and Above " series. That, and sloppy interspecies makeouts cut short by your matesprit-moirail-kismesis, fuck it, _human boyfriend_ 's awkwardness.

Speaking of him, he was still shifting on the bed, beneath the sheets, and you were getting a bit worried that he was having another one of his nightmares again. For all that he claimed to be "fine, fine", and "perfectly chill", his expression and the shakiness of his voice usually betrayed him.

But...this didn't seem like a nightmare, so you don't bother waking him. You do, however, turn to check on him, because if you couldn't sleep, hey, you were at least going to check Dave out in the most romantic way possible, like the way they did in your romcoms. The sheets tangle around you, making you briefly regret your tendency to gather everything soft around yourself into a pile.

You never get to see his face though; once you turn and move into range of his arms, he grabs you and pulls you hard against his chest, immediately throwing a leg over yours.

Trapped.

A soft sound of surprise escapes you, but you don't really feel much of a need to struggle. It's strangely comfortable being held like this, even with your arms squished akimbo between your bodies, encaged in Dave's arms and with his chin just barely digging into your skull between your horns. He's still shifting slightly (god, why won't he settle the fuck down and sleep), but Dave's new position makes several things incredibly blatant: one, he's extremely fucking hot, temperature-wise, and two, his movements are purposeful. He's... he's grinding whatever the fuck is in his pants against your thigh, and, despite yourself, you feel a flush of heat spread through your body.

That was his weird human bulge, hard, like the way it always got whenever your makeout sessions got a bit _too_ intense, and the thought somehow manages to exacerbate your sudden arousal. The hormones of the upper single-digit sweeps were the worst, you think as you squirm uncomfortably, clamp your legs together, and begin taking slow, deep breaths to calm yourself down. Kanaya would definitely never anticipate you to use her breathing technique to mitigate arousal rather than anger, but this was a genuinely practical application.

Breathe in, then out. In, out. In, ou-ah! Fuck!

In a particularly eager movement, Dave had somehow managed to thrust his bulge against the underside of the shield of your bone bulge, brushing against your nook, and you can't quite contain your gasp, again. You freeze. 

Your breath is still, your limbs are frozen, and, well. You can't fully contain the squirming of your bulge in its sheath, but hey, it's not like you weren't trying. Regardless, your efforts are pointless. Dave just sighs contentedly and rocks against you once more, and you tremble with the effort of suppressing your reactions. As forbidden as it seems, you didn't want him to wake up and stop; you wanted to fucking feel his arousal against your own, for once.

He rolls his hips against yours again, and again, and it feels so much better than you had expected. Your self-control cracks, falling apart like Dave's metaphors do when he grows flustered, and you rock in counterpoint to him, keeping a shifting pressure against each other. You're louder than you think you should be, soft gasps melding into groans that drop beneath your normal verbal range and into your rumbling bass, but it's not like Dave isn't making sounds of his own. It's almost romantic, you think, how your voice and his twine together in the heady atmosphere around your bodies and expand to fill the previously quiet room.

Arousal boils low in your abdomen, each thrust bringing a jolt of pleasure that fuels the flame, and, as you separate from Dave, you feel your bulge fully unsheathe in one fluid motion. The sudden decrease in pressure and the mind-numbing, overwhelming shock of sensation as Dave rocks against you make you moan, so you shove your face against his shirt in a futile attempt to muffle yourself.

He'd sped up, movements becoming jerky and almost frantic, and the assault of sensation against your bulge and nook rushes through your body. You're lost to a nearly animalistic haze in the pursuit of pleasure, when he rubs against something _just right_. You moan, and it's the jarringly loud sound that brings you, albeit only incrementally, back to your senses.

Despite the endorphins in your thinkpan telling you to grind against Dave until you come, you recall that at the moment you come, you would soak through your pants and most likely his bed. Shit. He still hadn't stopped moving against you, nor has he let go, and you're suddenly aware of how dangerously close you are to that moment.

Attempting to squirm down and out of his grip only increases the pressure on your nook, and your seedflap twitches. You panic, slam both your hands against his chest perhaps harder than necessary, and roll away, breathing heavily. Your claws dig into the bedsheets and your eyes clench shut as you attempt to get your body and thinkpan under control; you'd been so damn close to coming that stopping feels like an exquisite torture.

"...K'rkat?"

Dave's sleepy voice reaches you, at about the same time the self-blame does. Past you was an idiot, and should have absconded the fuck out of there as soon as he'd noticed what Dave was up to. He most definitely should not have just gone along with what Dave was doing, especially since the human had been fucking asleep. The thought that you'd pretty much just taken advantage of Dave in his sleep promptly killed your arousal, leaving you completely and absolutely disgusted at yourself.

==>Escape from this pity party.

What? But it was just getting interesting!

==>Ugh, fine. Be the coolkid who just woke up with a serious case of morning wood.

You are now DAVE STRIDER, and yeah, no. First of all, morning wood is a seriously stutid way to phrase anything, and second of all, serious? This wasn't serious- this was a life threatening case of medical trauma, more seriously sick than all your ill beats combined and incubated for max virulency. So sick you gotta call the sexy nurse with the nubby horns to rescue like he'd just been doing in your dream moments ago.

Wait, fuck. Dream. That shit hadn't actually gone down, had it. Whiiich...would explain your rude awakening, and also conclude that, well. You had probably just been rubbing up against Karkat, and that thought brings a hot, mortified flush to your face.

Uncool. So uncool.

You push yourself up into a sitting position, rubbing at your eyes and calling out Karkat's name. At the very least, you had to apologise and attempt to rectify the situation, as one does not simply abscond out of embarrassment whenever one gets a boner during heavy makeouts during the past months, then suddenly rut against one's boyfriend out of nowhere.

There's no response from Karkat, and, fuck, why the shit did he look like he was about to burst into tears? Had you somehow managed to actually fuck him up with just that?? Screw pinging the sexy nurse in to help with your boner, you're gonna swap roles and make yourself the caring nurse to him. Or was it the doctor to his nurse? Whatever. That metaphor had been on the way to getting absolutely out of hand, so you drop that, and then drop your hand to Karkat's shoulder.

To make things clear, you were totally planning to apologise, but, in the half-light of the room, you can't help but notice the darkish stain at the crotch of Karkat's sweatpants, and before you could restrain yourself, you're already blurting out, "holy shit, dude, did you fuckin' piss yourself?"

...smooth, Strider. Good going. Way to offer precisely zero comfort to your distraught boyfriend. At least he didn't look like he was about to cry anymore, although the flustered and rage-filled glare he pinned on you wasn't that much better.

==> Be the affronted troll.

Seriously?? Did Dave "Festering Literal Bulgechafer" Strider seriously just...??! 

Somehow, the anger you'd been directing at yourself spills out of you and toward Dave in the form of barely coherent accusations.

"FOR YOUR FUCKING INFORMATION, I DID _NOT_ FUCKING PISS MYSELF, AS YOU SO CALLOUSLY PHRASE IT! If you CAN'T TELL the difference between genetic fluid and piss, then you're a sadder sack of incompetent shit than I'd ever fucking thought you were. You were the one suddenly deciding to grind his strangely rigid bulge against my nook anyways, so yes I was goddamned fucking aroused, what the hell else did you expect? Me to be completely unaffected by my matesp-boyfriend finally attempting to pail me? So what, I might have reciprocated what you initiated, but it's not like..."

Dave had never shut up so long to let you talk before- he'd usually found some way to distract you, shut you up, or talk over you- and that robbed you of your confidence. You trail off as your rage tapers into a guilty silence, but before you could gather your wits about you and abscond, Dave slipped the arm on your shoulder around to your back to pull you into an awkward half-hug.

You flinch, unsure how to react in this situation. His palm is suddenly against your cheek, papping you softly, and a shhhh sound fills your senses. At the gentle shooshpapping, you melt, slumping sideways against his torso.

"Dude, it's fine, you're fine, in more ways than one. I, uh, was actually about to apologise to you about that, since me tryin'a get off on you was probably a really fucking rude awakening, but you don't seem to mind, so. Yeah. Quit doing the whole 'let's mentally beat the living shit out of past Karkat' thing and just chill, 'cause if anything it was me taking advantage of you not vice versa, dude, no matter how many times you flip this situation turnways, there's literally no way to ever construe it as you being a dirtbag or anything".

You kiss him. Here he is, trying and succeeding at reassuring you, but also tearing himself down in the process. It was always terrible to see him belittle himself without his projected ego in the way, and you hated it in the same way he hated your self-hatred, even if yours was justified.

It's just a quick contact of lips, almost laughably chaste for how risqué the situation had been just minutes ago, but it does the trick. Dave's dazed visage - without shades but with a blush inundating his skin - was beautiful. There was just one last niggling bit of doubt in your mind, "If you're so into this, then why have you always pulled away _every single time_ our makeouts have gotten more intimate?"

Indistinct mumble.

"Dave."

Slightly louder mumble.

"DAVE. You know how acute my aural shells are and I still can't fucking hear you." Your tone betrays your rough words, though, representing emotions that you'd horrendously embarrassed to detail because maybe, just maybe, you were a lil' fucking desperate.

"...thought you didn't want to, y'know, go anywhere, considering I've always had to initiate sloppy interspecies makeouts, so I didn't want to move too fast and make you uncomfortable. Seems like you're into all that romantic shit rather than gettin' hot and heavy."

Oh. He had completely misinterpreted your actions, then. While it was true that he initiated the majority of makeouts, that was just because he always did so in the middle of romcom nights, when you were usually too enraptured by the plot to be easily distracted by Dave. You were also the one who did all the small romantic gestures, like dropping light pecks on him whenever the situation seemed appropriate. But...

"This is rather ironic, isn't it?" you comment, attempting to maintain both eye contact with him and a level tone. 

His eyebrow raises in confused doubt, and you feel marginally triumphant. Here you are, using irony more than the Knight of Irony himself.

"I was worried I'd be pushing you too much if I tried to, ah, advance the situation, especially after the first time you absconded off to the ablution block after we kissed for a while. Essentially, we've both wanted the same goddamn thing, but been too globe-damaged to actually say it", and here, your movie-wrought romantic self takes over and you lean in closer to Dave, voice taking on a slightly strained quality. "It, being that, Dave Strider, coolkid asshat extraordinaire, I _really fucking want you_ ".

You hear his sharp gasp moments before his face fills your vision and both his hands are cupping your cheeks and his lips are on yours and wow, faces look weird this close up, so you close your eyes and kiss him back. He keeps the kiss closed-mouthed, although the way he way he presses against you hard, to the point of nearly being painful, communicates his desire clearly enough. You loop one arm around his neck and tangle the fingers of your other hand into his hair to pull him back just enough so you could move your lips without them being squished against your teeth.

Dave's... surprisingly good at kissing with his mouth closed, just shifting his lips over yours and occasionally sucking lightly at your lower lip, but _goddamn_ if you don't want more. He usually progressed almost hastily to deep kisses, but you recall what he'd said minutes ago and take initiative, carefully running your tongue along the seam of his lips. The action seems to shock him, as his lips part and he gasps right against your mouth, and…

You reel back, face contorting in surprised disgust as Dave stares blankly at you. An awkwardly tense moment later, Dave bursts out laughing, curling into himself. 

...seems like Dave had kept his mouth shut for a reason.

==>Gather your wits about you, Strider.

Tl;dr: Awkward situation aside, both dudes want each other, both fuck up massively, and now both are mackin' on each other hardcore. Perfect.

And also, 4:13-in-the-morning breath is the fucking worst. 

Or the best, considering that after briefly attempting to keep looking grossed-out, Karkat's now joining you in laughing to death. And guess what? Karkat laughing is the absolutely _cutest_ thing in existence. He reaches out and punches you, and you fall back with the force to flop onto the pillows.

"Oh my god, dude, Karkat, you should have seen your _face_!" you wheeze out, slowly returning your breath to a somewhat normal rhythm. At this point, Karkat's calmed down too, though his face is still that fucking adorable red.

"What the _fuck_ was that, Strider, you pan-fried clusterfuck of absolute festering bullshit??! Literal festering bullshit, smells like. How do humans even deal with that kind of fetid breath?!" 

Karkat looks like he's gearing up for another rant, so you save him the trouble of vomiting up his words and interrupt the way he's building up the combo attack. Up up down down left right left aaand leg around waist. You use the newly-gained traction to pull him down on top of you, and unfortunately, right on top of your still half-hard dick.

...which should have been excruciatingly painful, but actually wasn't. The troll had incredibly fast reflexes, apparently, and was able to catch the majority of his weight with his elbows on the bed. You, however, don't react quite as well as he does; involuntarily, you jerk up against him as your head lolls back and a breathy moan leaves your lips.

As soon as you crash-land from holy-fuck-that-feels-good galaxy back to the rocky planet of the IRL, you freeze, back slowly coming back down to rest against your mattress. Karkat's just staring at you now, a small and nervous grin quirking up his lips. He purposefully rolls his hips once more, and though it was just a stuttered movement, the positioning of your leg makes it feel like he's grinding full-on against your hard-on. You'd been close, earlier, getting it on with dream Karkat, but this, the real, corporeal Karkat, was over 9000 times better.

You slide your hands up his shirt, holding him with your hands covering the ridges on his sides, and thrust up to introduce your dick to Karkat's whatever-the-fuck. He's not hard, you're not even sure if he can get hard, but there's definite wet squishiness there now. You can feel it soak into the front of your godtier jammies, and it's, for lack of a better term, blissful. The heat, the movement, and now the encroaching dampness make you want to just lose yourself to incoherency and rut against him, relieving the arousal that'd been building up for way too long, but, though it be stupidly romantic, you kind of wanted to see Karkat finish before you.

He's started doing some weird troll purr thing, but it's low and bass enough that it doesn't mask your own, uh, sounds. Sounds that you'd be tempted to muffle with your hand if you weren't so busy rubbing your thumbs along the sensitive skin of his grubscars. You're paging one D. Stridenasty's hands to the sound-containment bay, but nope, they're occupied, getting it on hot and heavy with K. Vantastic's, uh, _uh_.

Fuck. You can no longer complete that metaphor as the alien explorer has discovered the twin temples of human nipples and defeated the boss within that is your coherency. You cry out, absolutely floored. You'd never known that your nipples were so fucking sensitive, but the effect was a sharp jolt of pleasure akin to Karkat dropping a tube of mentos into the bottle of Coke that was you.

And then shaking the bottle madly, given the way he was grinding, no, almost _bouncing_ atop you, and you could feel the arousal bubbling through the pit of your belly. He's so hot like this, shirt rucked up to his chest, face flushed, and a visible stain at the front of his pants as he messily thrusts back against you. This was so different from the controlled way he'd started out, and for some reason, the thought that he was gaining as much pleasure from you as you were from him heightens your arousal. You try to stop, slow down, but it's too late- the mentos have been added, the bottle has been shaken, and you briefly white out into a daze with your mind ablaze from the haze of orgasm.

==>Shit. You broke him.

One moment you were wantonly shoving your nook against Strider's bulge, hurtling quickly toward completion, and the next, he was crying out and then going rigid underneath you. With the kind of noises he was making, and the way he was all but writhing, you'd thought he was getting close too, but just. What the fuck was he doing?!

You wait a moment, before nudging your hips forward again. This was the second fucking time you'd been on the edge today, and damn if you weren't going to taste sweet release. Not literally, though. That's just disgusting.

Dave just whines softly, still not really moving, so you get off of him, concerned. Had you somehow managed to actually break him? You knew that humans were fragile, but not so fragile they'd succumb to a troll grinding on their reproductive organs...right? Unless...unless you'd somehow injured him? His strangely solid dick was going soft, and, oh god, you broke it, didn't you.

You get off of him and shake his shoulder almost roughly, panic seeping into your motions. "Dave. Dave, are you okay, did I hurt you? Did I break your bulge?? This is why having a hard bulge is a shitty idea, isn't it, since it's apparently susceptible to being fucking snapped???"

An amused breath of laughter came from Dave. Was that seriously all he had to offer? Your mind was a looping mess of what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck, so you suck in a breath to steady yourself. "Oh god, Dave, I know basic docterrorrist procedures. Just let me see your bulge, and, do you have a medical kit around here?"

Your gaze darts around the room, landing on several mysterious piles of... stuff, but before you could go mess-pile diving, Dave seemed to regain his senses. "Dude. One, that was the weirdest way anyone's ever tried to get in my pants, and two, chill the fuck out, I'm just kinda out of it because that orgasm was hella intense, like a grade A jizzard going off in my pants, sprayin' white stuff everywhere and absolutely wrecking the environment.”

"What. Are you actually misinterpreting my genuine concern over your health as a shitty come-on? Ugh." You scrutinise him, perhaps checking out the front of his pants for a bit longer than necessary, before commenting, "there's no genetic material. Do humans not...?"

He hesitates a moment and turns bright red before hooking his thumb into his waistband and tugging down a little, revealing pale fluid on his skin. "We do, just, probably not as much as you're expecting? Since your sweats seem to be suffering the flood of the century and something in there needs to evacuate by order of the davernment." As he speaks, he sort of just reaches toward you, the action too seemingly innocuous to catch your attention until he cups you through your pants and _squeezes_.

Holy bucketfucking shit.

You promptly decide that kneeling next to him would not be the best position to do this in, so you reluctantly back away and rearrange your limbs until you're sitting next to where Dave's lying.

==>It moved. What the fuck, it moved. Investigate it.

Or, you would if Karkat hadn't moved away...to sit in a more convenient position for exploration. Oh. Well then. What sort of Strider would you be if you didn't oblige? You roll onto your front and scoot forward until you're centimeters away from Karkat's bulge, ignoring the squishiness in your pants and your embarrassment at having zero control, and pry his legs apart to get between them.

There. There was that movement again, like a wavefront moving along the surface of his pants. In the name of scientific exploration, you poke it, and your finger comes away wet. Karkat's pants were soaked through, and that was hella hot, so you just sort of cup him through his pants and squeeze.

He gasps above you, the sound melding into a weird clicky trill that you can't quite describe. What you _can_ describe, however, is the way that Karkat feels almost like one of those quirky stress balls they give to hyperactive kids in the movies- squishy and slippery plastic encasing a jumble of softish objects that move when you squeeze it. He's soaked through, the slipperyness contrasting with the fuzzy fabric of his pants, and his...bulge(?) is squirming like mad in your grip.

You are endlessly fascinated.

You also desperately want to touch him with both hands, though you can't because you're still supporting yourself with the other. Lying on your front apparently had some disadvantages.

"Hey, Karkat, what you think, should I release the Kraken?" you start, glancing upward to check his reaction, though he doesn't seem to give one. He doesn't seem to have registered your words yet, considering his eyes are still squeezed shut, and he has one hand pressed over his mouth.

That's...

...so hot. So fucking hot that you lose your words for a second before you focus once more. "Ya want me to get crackin? 'Cause this is fun, best I've ever done, and though I ain't going for the full consummation I'd like to see you have a conniption; on your bulge wreak dave-astation, and 'til yo-mmmrphh"

Well. Okay then. You were just getting into the beat, rapping directly to Karkat's bulge as you squeezed it rhythmically through the fabric, when he thrust up against your mouth to cut you off. He was a bit more forceful than strictly necessary, forcing a surprised sound out of you, but then you decided that, hey, you could roll with this.

Literally roll. You mash your open mouth against the writhing lump and roll your tongue against it, reveling in the sounds that Karkat can't quite muffle. If you're being honest, you'd have to say that you find his futile attempts at remaining silent absolutely amusing, so you just kind of huff out a laugh. Unexpectedly, he bucks against you and you have to shift the hand on his bulge to his hip to hold him back against the bed.

Now it's just your mouth vs his crotch equipment, 1v1, PvP, palate vs pelvis, and man, you are _slaying_. His spunk, natural lube, whatever, actually tastes kind of good. It's faintly sweet but sharp, and it's as if it's restoring your metaphorical health bar to the max as you quickly chip away at what's left of his self-control. Somewhere along the line, his fingers had slipped into your hair, but now they were tugging roughly to get either your attention, or to get you off. You don't know which, and really, either is good.

"Shitshitshitshit, bucket, Dave, ah, getthefuckingbucket"

....seriously, what the fuck was the troll fetish for buckets all about? You don't know, and at the moment, you don't care, because that was something to ask him about _later_.

"Don't have to call me bucket, just Dave is fine", you tease, before diving back in and... moaning, because Karkat had just vindictively jerked your hair. You had some weird kink for that, apparently, because your hips jerk hard against the bed and you're startled to find that you're at full salute again. 

What the fuck.

A deep shudder wracks Karkat's body, and his hands clench hard in your hair as the flooding emergency in his pants reaches critical levels. It's almost like someone losing control of themselves after an increasingly desperate omo situation and gushing fluid everywhere, and, though he still tastes kind of delicious, you have to pull away to avoid choking (would choking in jizz be considered just or heroic?).

You leave one hand rhythmically squeezing his bulge, which is all but thrashing at the moment, and pull yourself up to a kneeling seiza position to watch. 

==>Watch what?

You cannot be the one being watched, as Karkat Vantas is too busy blissing the fuck out to attempt to narrate. If you tried to be him, you'd probably experience something along the lines of askdfhajklshfadjksfhkljhfajkhfksflhaklfhkls.

==>Moving on. Back to the coolkid (hotkid?).

Karkat curls into himself, and though you can't see most of his face due to the obstruction of his hair, you can clearly see how he's flushed red, mouth open in a silent cry as he shakes. This is easily the hottest thing you've ever seen, and you wish you had your camera.

It's a _veeeeeeery_ long moment before he seems to start coming down from his peak, breaths evening out. You remove your hand to avoid overstimulating him, and after a small hesitation, you shove the sticky hand down your pants and grab yourself, tugging none-too-gently at your cock. Perhaps it's the knowledge that it's Karkat's genetic material that you're smearing over your dick, but all too soon you're coming again, as you kneel in front of the best fucking boyfriend in the entirety of Paradox Space.

==>Yeah, now this one's blissed out too. Try the troll again.

You recover from absolutely ruining your pants in the best orgasm of your short life to the sight of your human boyfriend with his hand thrust into his pants, and as you watch, he jerks up and goes still just like he had minutes ago. If you hadn't literally just released, the sight would've had you squirming in your sheath again. As it is, your bulge barely twitches as it retracts, and you take deep breaths to regain your composure. You just want to pass right the fuck out, but if you don't do something about this mess, you are going to sorely regret it when you wake up.

Regret, meaning that you will spend hours pointlessly berating Past Karkat over Trollian, only to have Dave drag you away...which doesn't actually sound that bad. You stop that train of thought right there and force yourself up and out of the bed to shuck your pants. How the fuck had you been so desperate that you hadn't even been able to get out of some simple sweatpants?

Oh. Right. Dave, that complete sack of bulges, hadn't even gotten you a bucket before he was sucking you to completion. You couldn't really complain, but you do shove at his shoulder because he's just as messy as you are. He's pretty much covered in your genetic fluid - his lower body from you grinding on him, and his face from when he was, well, being a literal bulgelicker- and you definitely don't feel a sense of territorial pride at having marked him like that. Nope, not at all.

"Dave, get the fuck up so we can at least clean up somewhat and not wake up in pools of our own genetic material."

"Mostly yours, dude."

"Ugh. You get my point, now shut the fuck up and get me some pants from this mess you call a respiteblock."

"I call it a room. Your argument is invalid."

Dave. Was. _Insufferable_. At least he was getting up and rummaging through a pile, then tossing you a pair of grey sweats. A pair of oddly familiar grey sweats, which you scrutinise closely. Those are definitely yours.

"Do I want to know?" you ask, raising one eyebrow at Dave, whose face is going suspiciously red. He suddenly turns away from you and starts changing at a speed you'd previously thought impossible, especially with how sluggish he'd gotten. "Ha. Nevermind, then."

Despite your words, you definitely do not intend to put it out of your mind; rather, you'd just save it to tease him about later. Half-dressed, but clean, you rip the wet sheets off of his bed, grinning as he catches your action and immediately goes to rummage in yet another pile of unidentified fabric for spare sheets. As soon as he tosses them haphazardly over the bed, you flop into it. The tiredness hits you immediately, and you only muster the energy to lazily flip him off when he snickers.

You beckon him over with your middle finger, and his snickers only get louder as he lies down beside you and pulls you against himself. He's so warm against you, and you melt.

==>Sleep

Yeah. You're definitely game for that. Now to make sure Dave is too. "Your bulge isn't going to keep you from sleeping again, is it?"

In response, he just hugs you tighter, smushing your face against his chest, and muffles a flustered "shut uuuup" into your hair. You suppose that's about as good as it gets, and finally allow yourself to drift off in the arms of your human boyfriend.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the awesome [VeetVoojagig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeetVoojagig/pseuds/VeetVoojagig).
> 
> I was told that taking the bus would be a good time to study, so of course I write over 5000 words of DaveKat instead. #logic


End file.
